


I've Got You Under My Skin

by redundant_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Saves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is So Done (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Consensual Possession, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Demonic Possession, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fingerfucking, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Rough Sex, Sharing a Body, Smut, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Two Minds One Body, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel
Summary: Crowley must possess Aziraphale in order to prove to Hell that he's worthy of keeping his demonic powers.  Aziraphale agrees to help.------“Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.”“Oh, is that all?" said Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 138
Kudos: 397
Collections: Bittersweet Good Omens, Top Aziraphale Recs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IneffableAlien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/gifts).



When Crowley had woken up that morning he could not have possibly imagined the day ending with Aziraphale lying fast asleep next to him in _his_ bed, but then again, it had been no ordinary day.

It all began with a unexpected knock on the door of Crowley's flat the evening before. Crowley rarely received visitors at his home and it was already quite late. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe it was that Skip the Dishes* driver again? That would be the third time this week that they’d knocked on the wrong door. 

With a groan, Crowley, who had been lounging on his sofa watching a rerun of Friends, rose to his feet and tied shut his silk black housecoat. If it _was_ Skip the Dishes, Crowley thought, then he was keeping the food. He flung open the door.

“Demon Crowley.” 

There was a short, impish looking demon with slick black hair and red eyes staring back at him. Crowley vaguely recognized him as a lower-level associate of Beelzebub’s. It had been months since Crowley had seen or heard from any representatives from Hell. He had hoped that Aziraphale’s little display in the bathtub of holy water would have kept them at bay for longer than this.

Crowley glared down at the short demon with a sneer of contempt. “What do _you_ want?”

“I have a message from Lord Beelzebub,” the demon said, eyeing Crowley suspiciously.

Crowley felt a cold shiver run though him. It must have been important if they were going to send another demon topside to deliver a message. “Well, spit it out,” he demanded.

The demon considered Crowley carefully with his severe blood-red eyes. “We’ve been watching you, Crowley. Tracking your movements.”

“And?” Crowley sniffed. "What's your point?" He _had_ been spending an inordinate amount of time with Aziraphale lately, although he wasn’t entirely sure why anyone in Hell would care. They already considered him a traitor… how much worse could things get?

“The representatives of Hell are not convinced that you are still one of us. They think you have gone native. Or worse… that you have been irreparably... _tainted..._ by Heaven.”

Crowley let out a sarcastic laugh. “Tainted. Right. And what if I have? I told your lot to leave me alone or there would be consequences.”

The small demon did not look even remotely threatened. “I am not here to make that determination. I am here to inform you that Hell is planning to revoke all your powers. You are no longer one of us, therefore you will no longer be a demon.”

“Wait, what?" Crowley froze. "You can’t take my demon card away!”

“That is exactly what we are going to do. You will be mortal and powerless. That is, unless Heaven takes pity on you and allows you back into their good graces.”

Crowley was shaking. His nails were digging into the door frame with such force that the wood was beginning to splinter. He needed a minute to process this. 

“Okay, hold on,” he stammered, gritting his teeth. “If Hell really wanted me out then they would have done it already! They wouldn’t have sent the likes of _you_ to tell me about it first.”

The shorter demon let out a hacking cough that sounded like a dying cat. Crowley stepped back in disgust only to realize the noise was that of the other demon laughing.

“You are correct,” the demon continued with an amused smile on his stubby face. “Beelzebub has sent me to inform you that you will have one final chance to prove to us that you are still a proper demon. Fulfill this task and we will allow your status as a demon to remain intact. Fail, and you will have only the remainder of your short moral life to worry about it.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. How bad could it possible be? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, he would do it. Because if he didn’t, his time with Aziraphale was about to be cut short by, oh, a few thousand years to say the least.

“Alright, fine,” Crowley said irritably, crossing his arms. “What do I need to do?”

The other demon leaned in closely as though he was about to divulge a very valuable secret. He smelled of rotting fish that had been left out in the sun too long.

“If you want remain as a demon, Crowley, then you must act like one. You are aware, of course, that the demonic possession of an individual will ultimately determine whether Heaven or Hell will have eternal rights over their body and soul?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He was familiar with demonic possession, but he had never gone through with it himself. Never wanted to. Wasn’t his style.

“Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.”

“Oh, is that all?” Crowley said, trying to play it cool even though his head was spinning and his mouth was suddenly dry as tinder.

“I would take this seriously if I were you, Crowley,” the other demon warned. “Beelzebub is not playing games. If you want your status as a demon to remain intact, you will have to do more than just possess the body of a human. We require that you take possession of an angel.”

The demon chuckled coldly at the expression of shock on Crowley’s face. 

“Do this, and you will have satisfied Hell’s requirements. You have until tomorrow night.” 

With a choking plume of charcoal smoke, the demon disappeared into the floor leaving Crowley standing alone and flustered in his doorway. Crowley shut his front door and leaned against it, allowing himself to slide downwards until he was crumpled in an awkward heap on his living room floor. 

“I am so fucked,” he mumbled, burying his head in his hands.

Possessing an angel was no easy feat. To possess an angel, a demon would first have to find one, capture it, and then subdue it, and that was only if said angel didn’t smite the demon in question first.

Crowley only knew one angel.

With a groan, Crowley pulled out his cellphone and dialed the first number that came up.

“Aziraphale, it’s me. Got any plans tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Skip the Dishes is a Food Delivery Service in Canada (where I live), but apparently they belong to Just Eat, a leading global marketplace for online food delivery headquartered in the UK.  
> ANYWAY, I wanted to make reference to them in my fic because it's funny and also because John Hamm (Gabriel) is in the Skip the Dishes commercials! 
> 
> Take a look [here!](https://youtu.be/r4_BoJjW2g8)


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken Crowley approximately three seconds to make his mind up that attempting to possess an angel… his angel… was not an option. If Hell got their hooks into Aziraphale, the angel would fall and that would be it. It was out of the question. Crowley briefly considered how much shit he could fuck up during his last day as a demon, before realizing he had no desire to do anything for Hell’s benefit ever again. All he wanted to do was spend the day with Aziraphale.

“So, I was thinking,” Crowley began the moment he sauntered into Aziraphale’s bookshop, “that you and I could take a little trip today. See the seven wonders of the world. Or however many wonders of the world they have now.”

“We’ve seen all of those places before,” Aziraphale replied from somewhere between the stacks.

“Yes, but never all in one day! It would be a quick trip. We’ll have breakfast on the grounds of the Taj Mahal, then spend a few minutes visiting the Pyramids of Giza, maybe have lunch at Machu Picchu-”

Aziraphale appeared from around the corner with a fresh pot of tea in hand. “Crowley, what has gotten into you? ”

“We can take the Bentley! I can drive very fast, it will take no time at all. Maybe we can finally take that trip to Alpha Centauri!”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale all but shouted. “Slow down. Why on earth would you want to do all of that in a single day?”

The angel had halted in the process of pouring a cup of tea to consider Crowley fondly with those patient blue eyes. It had an unexpected calming effect on the demon. Crowley slumped into an overstuffed armchair and pouted.

“Because, Aziraphale.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his temples to release some stress. “I may not have the time to go see them all again.”

Aziraphale took a seat across from the demon, a concerned expression on his face. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”

“They’re cutting me off, Aziraphale.”

“Who?”

“The Dark Council. They’re taking away my powers. They’re going to leave me in this body to rot until I’m old and grey and I’ll never see you again.”

Aziraphale set aside his cup of tea. “Crowley. Are you being serious?”

Crowley had such a knack for sarcasm that it wasn’t much wonder that Aziraphale needed him to clarify. “Yes, angel, I'm deadly serious,” he replied solemnly.

“There must be something we can do to change their minds?”

 _We_. That idea that the angel still considered them to be a team almost made tears well up in Crowley’s eyes.

“There isn’t.” Crowley said with finality. “Have you got anything to drink around here?”

Aziraphale nodded and quickly made his way over to his liquor cabinet. “Whiskey?” he offered.

“Whiskey. Great. Bring all of it. I want to get very drunk.”

Aziraphale returned and poured Crowley a generous amount of drink into a glass tumbler. Crowley drank all of it in one go. Aziraphale filled the glass once again and Crowley finished that in seconds too. The angel shot him a stern look and opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it, and topped up his glass again.

“So, this is your plan then?” Aziraphale asked as he settled back into his armchair. “To get sloshed in my bookshop?”

Crowley laughed. “Well it’s a start, anyway. Then I thought I might go sky-diving without a parachute.”

The angel rolled his eyes. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Well it’s my last chance to do anything in this body before I lose my immortality. Might as well do something crazy.”

“If you do that, do you think your associates down in Hell will happily supply you with a new body? It’s much more likely that they would just wash their hands of you entirely and you’d be stuck down there forever, completely powerless.”

Crowley glared at Aziraphale, who was putting a damper on his pity party. “Angel, whose side are you on here anyway?”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “I’m on your side, dear. Always. You know that.”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He knew Aziraphale was right, of course. He had to be smart here. He couldn’t just go off somewhere and waste away his last day on earth as a demon. There were other things they could be doing...

“Speaking of being on my side, Aziraphale…” Crowley said as he reached for the bottle of whiskey, filling his glass right to the brim for the fourth time. “Will you still want me around, once I’m human

The angel looked back at him despairingly. “Of course, Crowley. I would never just leave you behind. You’re always welcome here.”

“But you would leave me behind… eventually,” Crowley said, taking another long swig of whiskey. It burned in his throat in a most pleasant way.

“I suppose that would be the end result, yes.”

Crowley sighed, staring off into the distance. He decided to ask the question that had been on his mind since the moment that demon and appeared at his door and broken the bad news.

“Do you think they would let me back into Heaven?”

Aziraphale stood, crossed the floor in three quick strides, and promptly wrapped his arms Crowley in an especially tight hug.

“Is that what you would want?” he asked.

Tears were welling up in Crowley’s eyes now and he hoped the angel couldn’t see them. “Only if you were there, Aziraphale. Waiting for me.”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley even tighter. There was a long silence before the angel gently released him from his embrace. When Crowley looked up, he saw that Aziraphale was also crying, but there was something else he noticed beyond the tears. A quiet but determined rage was now visible within the angel’s soft blue eyes.

“I’m not going to let this happen to you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Not without a fight.” The angel rolled up his sleeves and flexed his fingers. “Perhaps I need to go back down there again and give them a stern talking to.”

“Aziraphale… No. That won’t work.”

“We won’t know unless we try.”

“Aziraphale, please! They aren’t going to listen to you. They want proof that I’m still on their side.”

"They want proof that I’m still on their side,” Crowley said. He stiffened, realizing that he’d just spilled more information to Aziraphale than he’d meant to. The whiskey was decidedly not helping.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “What kind of proof?”

Crowley groaned. He couldn’t deal with this while he was drunk. Maybe he wasn't drunk enough? He polished off his fourth full glass of whiskey. “Alright, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me that you’ll say no. "

“That _I’ll_ say no? What are you talking about, Crowley?”

Well, he’d really done it now. There was no way the angel was going to let this go. Crowley sat up straight and locked eyes with Aziraphale. "If, and only if, I can possess an angel, then that will be the proof they need that I’m still worthy of being demon.”

Aziraphale remained silent for a moment. Suddenly he laughed. “That’s all?”

Crowley’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “What do you mean, that’s all, Aziraphale? You don’t see where this might be a problem?”

Aziraphale took a sip of his tea, which had grown cold since this conversation had begun. “Well, it’s a shame that you aren’t in acquaintance with any angels who might want to help you out with this little predicament.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Crowley moaned, slumping in his chair. “I can’t possess you.”

“Why not? I’ve possessed someone before, it really wasn’t so terrible. It was actually rather fascinating.”

“You’re an angel. You would never have done anything to hurt anyone who you had possessed.”

“I know you would never hurt me, Crowley.”

Crowley twisted himself up into a standing position. The room was spinning in circles and his head was pounding. “I would never hurt you, Aziraphale, but… I don’t know exactly what Hell had in mind once I had control of your body. If they tell me to do something, and I don’t do it…”

“Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Aziraphale, always the optimist. “If it’s both of us, together, we might be strong enough to stop them.”

Crowley wondered how the angel could maintain such a calm and cool composure while he, on the other hand, was already three sheets to the wind and an absolute mess.

“Angel, if something happened to you, I would never forgive myself,” Crowley said. Even in his inebriated state, he knew that much for certain.

“And I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try everything in my power to help you, Crowley,” Aziraphale countered, his expression one of absolute determination. “Now, I want you to promise me that I won’t hear another word of argument from you on this subject.”

Crowley hesitated, sinking back into his chair. Part of him wished that he had never stepped foot in Aziraphale’s bookshop this morning, and part of him was overwhelmingly grateful that the angel cared for him enough to risk everything to help him.

“Promise me,” Aziraphale repeated, waiting patiently for Crowley’s response.

“Alright, I promise, angel.”

“Good.” Aziraphale wandered over to one of many of his cluttered shelves, clearly on a mission. “I’ll need to do a bit of research before we begin.”

“You have books about angels being possessed by demons?”

“My dear, I have books on everything. You should know that by now,” Aziraphale replied, matter-of-factly.

Crowley snorted. “Course you do. What was I thinking?”

An hour or so later, Aziraphale returned to Crowley’s side with a two fresh cups of Earl Grey.

“Find anythin’, angel?” Crowley drawled from where he lay in a tangled heap on Aziraphale’s sofa. The bottle of whiskey lay empty on the floor next to him.

“Yes. You might want to sober up, dear,” Aziraphale said sternly, handing the demon a hot cup of tea.

“S’why? Do I have to…?” Crowley mumbled, clutching his head in pain. The angel was giving him a stern look that Crowley understood to mean that he was not in the mood to be toyed with. He forced the alcohol out of his system with a groan. The pounding headache he was experiencing only worsened.

Aziraphale looked very pale.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked, even though he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer.

Aziraphale sipped at his tea thoughtfully. “How much do you know about demonic possession, Crowley?”

Crowley shrugged. “The basics, I guess. I’ve never attempted it myself, but I’ve seen it done.”

“To an angel?”

Crowley thought back. He strove to spend as little time in Hell as possible. He would dip in and out, never opting to stay long enough to let anything bother him, although he knew there were indeed terrible things happening there all the time. He was aware that angels had been captured before, long ago. It had not ended well for them.

Aziraphale’s mouth was drawn into a taught line as he leafed through the book on his lap. “After reading up on the subject I have discovered an element or two that might be of concern.”

“I knew this was a terrible idea.”

“Now, hold on, Crowley. It’s nothing we can’t manage, but I just thought that you should be aware of this before we attempt anything.”

“You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that?” Crowley said affectionately. Or at least he hoped it sounded affectionate.

Aziraphale gave him a grim smile before glancing back down at his book. “It says here that an occult being and an ethereal being cannot exist in harmony with each other in one body. Any demon who takes possession of an angel will have complete and absolute control of their physical body. This means that you would be in complete control of my corporation the entire time, Crowley. I wouldn’t be able to take it back from you until you let me go."

Crowley sighed. "I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Furthermore," Aziraphale continued, "the demon will be able to read the angel’s mind. Every thought… every feeling. Nothing would be off limits.”

"Oh, this just gets better!" Crowley said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn't want to say what he was thinking out loud, and he knew he didn't need to. It was mutually understood that if they went through with this, it would mean experiencing a level of intimacy that neither he nor Aziraphale could possibly be prepared for. It would, in a sense, be a complete violation of Aziraphale’s privacy.

“And there’s one more thing,” said the angel, pushing the ancient tome in front of Crowley’s nose. The book appeared to be about a thousand years old and it was written in Latin. Crowley had to squint to make out the detailed printing. His heart suddenly felt like it was in his throat.

“Angel, no," Crowley said stiffly. "We are not doing this.”

“Crowley- ”

“No. I can’t. Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me up to this point, I do, but...”

Aziraphale took the ancient book away from Crowley and closed the cover. “You made a promise to me, Crowley. Do you remember?”

Without warning, Crowley shot to his feet and launched the cup of tea he’d been holding across the room. It smacked wetly against a shelf and shattered into pieces all over the carpet. “What's your point?” he snapped, the gravity of the situation having finally worn him down. “I’m still a demon. Breaking promises is like breathing air!”

Cheeks flushed red, Aziraphale rose to his feet and locked eyes with Crowley. “Not if that promise was made to me!" the angel said sharply. "Now, sit back down or I do I need to bind you in place?”

Crowley gulped. He had never seen Aziraphale this angry before. Crowley also realized, with a vague tinge of macabre curiosity, that he was suddenly very aroused. He sat down immediately before Aziraphale could notice it too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, waving a hand towards the broken glass to clean it up.

Aziraphale sighed, the colour in his cheeks returning to normal as he calmed himself. “You are forgiven, of course. And I’m sorry for my sudden outburst. I am only trying to help you, Crowley.”

Crowley shook his head and glanced at the dusty book on Aziraphale’s desk. “I know, Aziraphale but I can’t ask this of you.”

“Do you trust me?” Aziraphale asked, pointedly.

Crowley took a deep breath. “Yes, but...”

“Then trust me when I say that I am stronger that you think. I’ve been through worse. We both have." Aziraphale fastidiously adjusted his waistcoat and straightened his bow tie. "Shall we begin?"

The angel winked at Crowley as though they weren’t about to go through with something that was completely and utterly insane, and Crowley couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t deserve someone as good as Aziraphale in his life.

That damned angel was always getting himself into trouble, only this time, the trouble was Crowley and the demon was not going to be able to come his rescue.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, one demon and one angel sat across from one another inside the bookshop. A heavy silence permeated the room like a monster on the prowl, waiting patiently in the shadows for its chance to strike. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands into his own and wove their fingers firmly together. The angel’s palms were warm and comforting against his own. 

“Shall we get started?” Aziraphale finally asked. The apprehension in his voice was measured but calm. 

Crowley had only a rudimentary knowledge of demonic possession. Ironically, the angel was the one who had more experience with it. Essentially all that was required was that Aziraphale keep his mind open and susceptible, while Crowley just needed to find a way in. 

Crowley nodded once but otherwise sat perfectly still. This was his last chance to put a stop to this and back out, if that’s what he was going to do. 

While human lives were fast and fleeting, Crowley’s existence was a persistent flame that burned through it all. He should have no right to complain if this century turned out to be his last. The trouble was that Crowley couldn’t stand the thought of losing Aziraphale forever, which was exactly what would happen if they didn’t at least try. It was a completely insane and selfish idea, but Aziraphale had assured him it was risk he was willing to take to try to save Crowley’s life.

“Aziraphale… when I’m in there, I promise that I’ll do my best not to pry.”

“Don’t think anything of it, dear,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll understand.”

“Not like I don’t know everything about you already,” Crowley babbled on. “You’re just like an open book.” 

He had no idea whether Aziraphale was an open book or not. The angel did love to converse about everything and anything and had never been very good at keeping secrets, but when it came down to it, Aziraphale was an ethereal being. He could be living a double life as a backup dancer for the Backstreet Boys and Crowley would never know.

Aziraphale gave an anxious little laugh. “I may be an open book but try not to read between the lines if you would, dear.”

Crowley nodded. He smiled at Aziraphale and stared into the angel’s eyes, studying every detail. The shape of them, their otherworldly exterior and the dogged optimism and courage that rested behind them. He wanted to commit it all to memory just in case things went sideways.

“Ready?” he asked, squeezing Aziraphale’s palms gently.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied, giving Crowley a reassuring squeeze of his own. 

Crowley closed his eyes and concentrated. He could sense the angel’s aura glowing softly in front of him. He steadied himself and cautiously reached forward with his mind, proceeding as though he were dipping his toes into a piping hot bath. As he pressed forward against Aziraphale’s aura, he almost expected to be burned; hoped for it really, figuring he probably deserved the pain. It didn’t happen. Instead he could sense Aziraphale relaxing against him, urging his corporation to permit such an intrusion. It must have been against Aziraphale’s nature as an angel to simply allow a demon to infiltrate his body this way, and Crowley humbly realized that Aziraphale must trust him fully to allow him inside like this.

He continued to press forward until he felt himself fully engulfed in Aziraphale’s light. The angel shone so brightly that Crowley found himself momentarily blinded. As his vision adapted slowly to the intense glare, Crowley realized with a mix of dread and relief that the possession had been successful. His own body had vanished into thin air and Aziraphale’s corporation now sat alone in the bookshop.

Being at the helm of Aziraphale’s body was familiar enough; Crowley had been there before during his little foray into Heaven while pretending to be the angel. He'd almost forgotten how nice it felt. The angel's body was so inviting and comfortable... so tempting and warm. Almost like coming home after a long day. A demon could get used to this, Crowley thought.

But of course, he couldn’t stay here. He didn’t belong. Get in, do what needed to be done, and get out: that was the plan. But something was different this time around. 

Crowley stood up, and took a few steps around the room, waiting for someone from head office to show up. He couldn’t sense any demons nearby. He had assumed that they would have been watching him with greedy eyes, waiting for just this moment to pop up and give him some direction now that the deed was done. Nothing happened.

“Alright, guys, it’s done,” Crowley said loudly. “Lord Beezelbub, I’ve done what you wanted! I’ve possessed an angel. Yay me. What’s next?”

He hadn’t really expected a reply, and of course, there was none. He sighed. _Now what?_

_Now what indeed._

The angel’s voice echoed clear as a bell through Crowley’s head and he was instantly aware of Aziraphale’s consciousness. It thrummed strongly like a heartbeat, infiltrating the edges of Crowley’s mind and reminding him that he was not alone. 

_Aziraphale? You can hear me?_

_Of course, I can hear you, Crowley,_ came the reply.

“Fuck, angel. This is weird,” Crowley said out loud, and the curse word rolled uncomfortably off his new tongue.

_I would have to agree with you there._

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

 _No, not at all._ _There’s just a bit less space, if that makes any sense._ _No messages from Hell so far?_

“Not yet.”

_How do you normally contact them?_

“I never contact them, Aziraphale. Never needed to. They’ve always sent someone to me, or I’ve just gone to head office in person.”

_Which, given my current predicament, is likely a bad idea._

Crowley could suddenly sense a wave of underlying fear from Aziraphale. It rolled across his own mind, then dissipated into the background. Crowley tried not to dwell on it because if Aziraphale was worried, then he would worry too.

“The last thing I would ever do is bring you down to Hell like a gift wrapped in a neat little bow, Aziraphale,” he said.

_I appreciate that, Crowley. However, we do need to try to get their attention. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you need to do something… demonic?_

Crowley snorted. “Aziraphale, are you encouraging me to sin?”

_I suppose so, yes. For the purposes of getting you out of trouble, of course._

“Right. I’ll think of something.”

Normally, this wouldn’t be a difficult task, but for whatever reason Crowley couldn’t concentrate. The angel’s presence shone warmly from the outskirts of his own mind. Almost effortlessly, Crowley found himself reaching forward. 

He didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to pry. But Aziraphale’s mind was so tempting, like a sun-soaked patch of sand at a tropical beach. It was hard not to want to move in closer, curl up on that sundrenched soft surface and just bask in its bright heat for awhile. 

Crowley pressed a little deeper, a little closer, and that’s when he first noticed it. There was something there like a barrier, almost like a curtain or a veil, that wasn’t completely opaque. He could sense that there was something just beyond it, something he couldn’t quite see. Although Crowley was certain he could push through it, it was apparent that Aziraphale was using whatever control he had left in attempting to hide something from him. Something he didn’t want Crowley to find. 

He forced himself to pull away. As tempting as it was to push that veil aside, the last thing he wanted to do was violate Aziraphale’s trust. He had to let it go. 

Willing his mind to focus, Crowley glanced up and found himself standing eye-to-eye with a rather ugly marble bust of William Shakespeare.

“I’ve always hated this thing,” Crowley said. Without hesitation, he reached up and knocked the statue off the stand. It crashed to the floor with a heave thud; the nose breaking off and skidding beneath a nearby bookshelf.

The emotional reaction from Aziraphale’s mind was swift. A flash of surprise, then fleeting anger… no hurt? Then calm and resoluteness. Crowley could sense it all, like a moving picture in front of his eyes.

 _I quite liked that statue, Crowley,_ Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley leaned down to pick it up. “I’m sorry, angel. You did say I needed to do something demonic.”

_Yes, but I highly doubt that the forces of evil are going to pay much attention to an act of minor vandalism._

Crowley knew Aziraphale was right. It was go big, or go home. He would need to send a signal that that Hell couldn’t ignore. “We’re going to need to go out,” Crowley said, flatly. “But not dressed like this.” He snapped his fingers and instantly Aziraphale was dressed head to toe in a form fitting black brocade suit with a black tie. 

_Oh my_ , came Aziraphale’s surprised response. Crowley sensed a flash of emotion from the angel, but it was gone too quickly to pick up on.

“Damn it, angel,” Crowley mused as he checked out his new appearance. “You need to wear black more often.”

 _You’ve said that before. Perhaps I’ll take it into consideration after this is all over with._ Aziraphale’s tone was light but his voice seemed a bit weaker now, as though he were standing further away. 

“Aziraphale are you alright?”

_Yes, I’m fine Crowley. But I think it might be pertinent to get a move on._

Crowley focused inward and noticed that the bright warmth of Aziraphale’s aura was beginning to fade. He reflected on the words written in Latin inside of Aziraphale’s ancient book and felt a cold tinge of dread run through his veins. This wasn't a good sign.

“We need to hurry.”

Crowley turned to leave and reached for his sunglasses which had been sitting on the table next to the empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t need them, of course. For the first time ever, he would be able to walk the streets without worrying about someone seeing his eyes and freaking out. Everyone would be able to see _him_ , though, and Crowley wasn’t ready for that.

With a sigh of contempt, Crowley put the glasses back on, completely obscuring Aziraphale’s patient blue eyes behind those impenetrable dark lenses.

“Right. Let’s go stir up some trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

_"If only you saw what I can see_

_You'll understand why I want you so desperately_  
_  
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe_  
_  
You don't know, oh oh_  
_  
You don't know you're beautiful, oh oh_  
_  
That's what makes you beautiful."_

Flustered, Beelzebub nearly dropped their cellphone in a desperate attempt to answer it before anyone else could hear the nauseating ringtone that Gabriel had programmed to play whenever he called, which was often.

“What do _you_ want?” Beelzebub growled harshly into the phone.

“Beez, it’s me.”

“I know it’s you, you idiot!”

“Right, of course. Sorry.”

“This had better be important. I was just about to do an inspection of our troops.”

“Oh, oh… it is. I’ve spent the last ten minutes watching that train wreck Aziraphale and that snake Crowley, and-”

“I don’t have time to watch soap operas, Gabriel!” Beelzebub snapped, patience running thin.

“Well, you might want to take a look at this," said Gabriel. "I'm sending you a screenshot.”

It was a picture of Aziraphale. At least it looked like Aziraphale, except the angel was dressed all in black and wearing Crowley’s dark glasses while casually strolling down a street in Soho.

"It came up on our radar right away. Caused a huge rift in energy. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

Beelzebub exhaled in disbelief and slunk onto their dark thrown. “Oh, my Satan. He actually did it.”

“So you knew about this?”

“Of course I knew about it. It was my idea. I just never thought Crowley would actually go through with it. This is turning out even better than I thought it would!"

“Beez, will you explain to me what in Heaven's name is going on? Considering it involves one of my angels, I think I have a right to know."

The Prince of Hell snickered. “Since when have you cared what happens to Aziraphale? You should be thanking me for taking care of your little earth-bound problem.”

There was a pause on the line. “You want him to fall.”

“Exactly. Your lot doesn’t want anything to do with him, if I'm correct? And it would be a shame to waste all that power on running a bookshop. Besides, having the likes of a principality join our ranks would do wonders for the moral down here. It's a win-win situation for both of us, Gabriel.”

Gabriel sighed uncomfortably. “Beez… you can’t possibly expect me to sit back while a demon possesses one of our angels and do nothing to stop it?”

“That’s exactly what I expect of you, you imbecile,” Beelzebub snapped. “Stay out of my way and let the problem take care of itself.”

“And what about the demon Crowley? What happens to him?”

“Don't worry,” Beelzebub said with a grin that was nothing but menace. “That slithering disaster is going to get exactly what he deserves.”

***

Crowley kept his head down as he walked purposefully down the street away from the bookshop. It was growing late in the day and the sun was starting to fade behind the rooftops that lined the busy street in Soho. Crowley was trying not to panic but he hadn't felt this stressed out since the day the apocalypse was supposed to begin. He could hardly think straight.

“Aziraphale?”

_Yes, dear?_

“Are you... still alright in there?”

 _Tip top. No need to worry_.

Crowley could sense an underlying concern behind Aziraphale’s words. The angel was indeed worried, probably just as much as he was.

_Any ideas so far?_

“Um, yeah. Absolutely,” Crowley lied, sliding his hands into his pockets. “But I’m always up for suggestions.”

 _You’re asking an angel for suggestions on how to attract a demon?_ Aziraphale nearly laughed. _Well, in my experience,_ _inviting them to dinner generally works, and then I usually follow that up by opening a couple of bottles of wine back at the bookshop and relaxing in front of a crackling fire..._

"Feeling a bit sassy, are we angel?"

_Forgive me, dear. I do have a lot on my mind right now. In all seriousness though, if you were to perform enough demonic miracles in one location, perhaps that would get their attention._

Crowley surveyed the bustling street around him, searching for inspiration. That’s when he saw the cyclist coming towards him. He was riding on the pavement, no less. That was practically asking for trouble. With a wave of Crowley's fingers, the cyclist promptly ran over a newly formed bump on the road and crashed awkwardly to the ground.

Taking the cyclist down felt surprisingly pleasant, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile. That was until Aziraphale let out a groan of pain inside his head.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

_I'm not sure. I just suddenly felt a bit... dizzy. I'm okay now, though._

“Okay, hold on. Just a couple more spells in sequence should do it."

Crowley noticed a woman walking down the street. She was texting on her phone instead of paying attention to her surroundings. Honestly, these humans were just bringing this on themselves, Crowley thought. Another snap of his fingers and the woman tripped; her phone smashing to bits on the cement in front of her. 

A darkly pleasant feeling trickled through Crowley’s veins. Pleasure, at the expense of the pain of others, except the thrill seemed to have multiplied. Demonic magic had never felt like this before. It felt borderline erotic.

Aziraphale groaned in misery inside Crowley's mind again, and the demon could practically taste the angel’s holy power draining away. The bright light that represented Aziraphale's aura was steadily growing dim, as though dark clouds had moved in and settled over the sky. It was not a good sign.

“My demonic magic,” Crowley hissed. “It’s causing you harm.”

 _It appears that way, yes,_ Aziraphale answered calmly.

Crowley dug his nails into the palms of his hands in anger. They'd both known going in that this might happen, and yet it seemed the effects of the demonic possession were progressing a lot faster than what they'd expected. 

The foreboding words written in the ancient book of Aziraphale’s had foretold that any angel possessed by a demon would slowly and inevitably be corrupted by the darkness inside them. Of course, they key word had been “slowly” and Aziraphale was no ordinary angel; he was principality. And Crowley, well, he was a shit demon who couldn’t evil his way out of a paper bag. Besides, this arrangement had only been meant to be very temporary: Crowley only needed to be in there long enough to make a point. Aziraphale had been quite confident that the two of them would be back in time to have dinner at the Ritz that evening. Now it was beginning to look like that wasn't going to happen.

"Aziraphale, I think we should stop." Crowley elected not to mention how using dark magic was making him feel. The angel didn’t need to worry any more than he already was.

 _No, Crowley,_ Aziraphale whispered. _We can’t give up yet. I'll be alright._

"As long as you're sure," Crowley sighed. "I guess I'll have to try something a bit more... noticeable." He continued down the road, looking for inspiration. "You know me, angel, I’ve never been one for flashy displays of grandeur. That’s always been more your side’s kind of thing.”

_Hmm. Well, there was that time you dropped a bomb on a church, but I really would rather not repeat that experience._

“Ah, but it’s Monday,” Crowley whispered excitedly, trying to keep his voice down so no one would notice he was talking to himself. “Nobody goes to church on Mondays.”

_First, Crowley, that’s not necessarily true. And second, where are you going to divert a bomb from? Last I checked, we were no longer living in a war zone._

Crowley groaned in surrender. “Alright, fine. No bombs.”

They had reached the end of the block and were facing the four-way intersection there when Crowley had an idea. “Hmm... wouldn't it be a shame if these traffic lights were to say... suddenly malfunction, all at the same time...”

Aziraphale's discomfort was obvious. _If you must. But please try not to hurt anyone, Crowley,_ he said.

“What are you now, my conscience?” Crowley laughed. “Or the angel on my shoulder?”

_Your better half, perhaps?_

Crowley grinned at the familiar irritation in Aziraphale's voice, but even more so because he could read the angel's emotions and for the moment, Aziraphale was happy. Even though their situation was beginning to look quite grim, the angel was enjoying every moment of their banter. Crowley loved sparring back and forth with Aziraphale over a glass of wine, and he had long suspected the angel enjoyed it too, otherwise they never would have put up with each other for so long. It was reassuring to know that Aziraphale felt the same way.

"Right, hold on, angel," Crowley warned him. "This might hurt you a bit.” 

With a snap of his fingers, all the traffic lights at the intersection to turn green simultaneously. Cars swerved, their horns blaring, and with a thunderous noise, multiple vehicles crashed into each other, spinning wildly and nearly hitting a few pedestrians. True to his word, the demon was careful to made sure no one was seriously injured, but the scene unfolding before them was absolute chaos. 

Crowley tried desperately to hide the pleasure as it writhed through his body, but he couldn't be sure that Aziraphale hadn't noticed. It was his corporation, after all. Causing that accident had felt so bloody good that Crowley wanted to do it again. He was seriously considering causing even more mayhem when the full brunt of Aziraphale’s pain ricocheted through his mind and nearly knocked Crowley off his feet. The angel was in absolute agony as his remaining strength dwindled, while Crowley was feeling more powerful than he ever had before. Crowley sucked in a breath, trying to compose himself. 

Still, no demons appeared on the scene. Their plan wasn't working. It almost seemed as though it was making things worse.

 _Crowley..._ Aziraphale mumbled softly, the pain evident in his voice.

“We can’t keep doing this, Aziraphale," Crowley said firmly. "I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

_I’m alright..._

For the first time in as long as Crowley had known Aziraphale, he could tell with certainty that the angel was lying.

“No, this is ridiculous. We're going back to the bookshop and I’m getting out of your body.”

_We can’t quit now, Crowley. I promise, I have enough strength left for you to use one more demonic miracle._

Crowley shook his head and turned on his heel to head back towards the bookshop. "No, angel. We tried, it didn't work. We have to accept that. I have to accept it."

Aziraphale fell silent.

As they reached the doorway of the bookshop entrance, Crowley hesitated. He could either go inside and put an end to this madness, or trust that Aziraphale knew what his limits were and keep going. Crowley focused inwards, wanting to feel the warmth of Aziraphale's soul against his own one last time before it was too late. He could see the fragile remnants of the angel's attempt to keep something hidden from him. The veil was barely visible anymore. It wouldn't be long before Crowley would be able to see right through it. He understood and respected the fact that there was something behind there that Aziraphale thought might hurt him, but at the same time, was it worth the toll it was so obviously taking from the angel to keep this up? 

Aziraphale was more powerful than he looked, there was no question about that. But at some point there would be no turning back from this. The darkness inside Crowley would eventually corrupt Aziraphale forever if they weren't careful. 

Crowley loved Aziraphale more than anything or anyone in the universe, and if that meant sacrificing his mortality to spare the angel any more harm then Crowley knew that was what he needed to do. This was his fault. His problem. He couldn't lose Aziraphale this way.

 _You're not going to lose me, Crowley,_ Aziraphale said suddenly, as though he'd been tuned in to Crowley's thoughts the entire time. 

Crowley swallowed, wondering how much of that Aziraphale had heard.

 _You promised me that you'd let me try everything in my power to help you,_ the angel said. _Believe me when I tell you that I can handle this. We need to try one last time. Please, my dear._

With a groan, Crowley slammed his fists against the bookshop door and turned to cross the street. He slipped into the driver’s seat of the Bentley and slammed the door. It took a moment to adjust the mirrors and driver’s seat to accommodate for the angel’s shorter frame. Crowley took a long look at himself in the rear view mirror. A demon hiding behind the eyes of an angel. He ripped his dark glasses from his face and tossed them aside. There was no reason to hide anymore. 

"Alright, angel, one last time." Crowley said as he put the key in the ignition. "Hold on tight." 

The Bentley roared to life with a squeal of tires as Crowley set off at a punishing pace. He knew this would be their final chance.

 _Oh, and Crowley?_ Aziraphale said, his voice tinged with determination.

"Yeah, angel?"

_Give them hell._


	5. Chapter 5

It was a beautiful day outside, although some clouds were now rolling in as the wind picked up. The sun was beginning its decent as the afternoon wore on, indicating that they were slowly running out of time, but for now, sunbeams glinted brightly off the paint of the Bentley’s bonnet as Crowley and Aziraphale drove out of the city. Aziraphale wasn’t sure where they were headed but he trusted that Crowley had a plan. Still, there was an elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.

_Crowley?_ The angel's voice chimed quietly in Crowley’s mind as they drove along the outskirts of London. _I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something, and this seems as good a time as any. You may have noticed that I’ve been… holding something back from you._

Crowley eyed his reflection in the rear view mirror. “Uh, yeah, angel. I’ve noticed."

_Each time you use your powers, I feel myself growing weaker._ _So, I think it might be best if I were to conserve my strength and not continue to put my energy into keeping this wall up between us._

Crowley let out a frustrated sigh and clenched his jaw. As if he hadn’t put Aziraphale through enough already, now the angel felt it necessary to reveal something to him that he was never meant to know. He wanted to apologize, or give some assurance to Aziraphale, but the words caught in his teeth. 

_Are you alright dear?_

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Just great. Here I am, forcing you into sharing something with me that I was never meant to see.”

_It’s not that you were never meant to see it, Crowley,_ Aziraphale said softly. _It’s… well… I was doing it to protect you._

“Protect me from what?”

Aziraphale hesitated. _Well, a few things, really. Some of which is, well… perhaps a tad inappropriate. I didn’t want to burden you with it, what with everything else that’s going on._

“For Satan’s sake, angel, has anyone ever told you that you can be too bloody selfless for your own good?” Crowley snapped. “Go on. Burden me. I want you to. I probably deserve it.”

Aziraphale went silent for a moment. Crowley could sense him dithering, working up the courage to let go. 

_Very well,_ the angel finally replied. _It’s probably best if I reveal it slowly, otherwise I’m afraid it will be too much at once._

“Whatever it is, I’m sure can handle it,” Crowley told him, with more bravado than he felt. “I think. Should pull over?”

_Perhaps that would be pertinent, dear. Just in case._

They pulled over to the side of the road and Crowley let out a hiss of breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His nerves were frayed. Whatever the angel was hiding from him couldn’t be all that bad, could it? 

“Alright, angel. Go on, let's have it.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale opening to him ever so slowly as the angel’s defenses lifted away. Hot blinding light and fragments of memories spilled out into his own mind, shimmering brightly and gradually coming into focus. Crowley saw himself. It was a hazy, rose-tinged memory of himself from the day he and Aziraphale had first met on the wall at Eden. It seemed the image of those wide yellow eyes of his and crooked smile had been burned forever into the angel’s memory. Crowley couldn’t have known it at the time, but now he could sense that the angel had found him charming right from the beginning. 

  
There were memories of Crowley standing with Aziraphale in the desert watching as animals were loaded onto Noah’s arc, a memory of a time they accidentally ran into each other in Egypt while on the same assignment. Crowley dressed in Grecian robes, making eyes at him that Crowley never realized had been so painfully obvious. Each image was wrought with warmth and curiosity and delight on Aziraphale’s part.

Crowley saw next the moment that he appeared in Aziraphale’s cramped cell at the Bastille to rescue the angel. Crowley himself remembered that moment clearly; how he had waited until the last possible minute before concluding that Aziraphale was not going to miracle himself out of there before making his grand entrance. He hadn’t wanted Aziraphale to know that he’d been keeping tabs on him. 

Aziraphale remembered it differently. The angel had known all along that Crowley was in the area. He’d gotten himself thrown into the Bastille on purpose, eagerly hoping that the demon would come to his rescue. The bashful smile he’d given Crowley when the demon miracle the chains free from his wrists, even though there had been no real risk for him to have freed himself. How thrilled Aziraphale been when they’d gone for lunch afterward, his plan having worked perfectly.

“I knew it…” Crowley grumbled, although he couldn’t find it in him to be angry. How could he be upset now that he was beginning to understand exactly how much the angel craved his company, and exactly the way his body reacted whenever Crowley was near. The angel’s heart fluttered any time the demon made an unexpected appearance. Aziraphale would try but he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across Crowley’s lithe form. How Aziraphale enjoyed breathing in the scent of him, and the tight twist of want that came with it...

Without warning, Aziraphale pulled back and the heady stream of memories vanished, jarring Crowley roughly back to reality. 

“Aziraphale, why did you stop?” Crowley whined. He felt like he’d been standing on a precipice, so close to something more. Something real. Something forbidden. If he wasn’t mistaken, it seemed as though the angel might have a slight infatuation... with him.

_I think that’s enough for now._ Aziraphale said. _I don’t want to overwhelm you._

“Angel-” 

_We should probably get a move on, dear_.

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but he didn’t want to upset Aziraphale right now. Crowley was desperate to see more, and he wanted to know exactly how deep that infatuation went, but this was not the time. With a frustrated huff of breath, he pulled back onto the road and kept driving. He had to focus on the task at hand. 

Crowley had spent the last six thousand years living among humans and he knew exactly what kinds of things that drove people crazy. Screwing with people was fun, and Crowley was deceptively good at it. Although he’d been technically unemployed since the little apocalypse that couldn’t, Crowley liked to keep busy in his spare time, which was pretty much any time he wasn’t spending with Aziraphale. Idol hands, and all that. He might even argue that he was getting more creative now that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. The inconspicuous nature of Crowley’s plans often earned him a much-maligned reputation in Hell for being lazy, but he had realized long ago that the trick to a successful temptation was patience. Start with something manageable and watch as the anarchy intensifies little by little. His latest demonic project, aptly titled ‘The Spinning Wheel of Death’ had been up and running for a week and he was extremely pleased with the results. 

_The Spinning Wheel of Death? That sounds rather morbid._

“It’s just a name, really,” Crowley admitted they crossed through a rural area surrounded by a smattering of trees and farmers fields. He explained to Aziraphale that the country’s biggest electricity provider had recently switched over to using a new software program: iEnergy Solutions. The new software was supposed to be state-of-the-art and user-friendly. Crowley had made certain that it was the exact opposite. 

Anyone at the company who had had the misfortune of working with the newly installed software despised it with a vengeance. Employees now had to sit and wait (and fume with growing frustration) as the tiny icon of a wheel would spin for eternity while the web page struggled to load. To date, ‘The Spinning Wheel of Death’ had caused a multitude of headaches, at least two migraines, and had even persuaded one employee to change careers and work at a dog grooming salon. Not to mention the loss of productivity as the minutes ticked by while everyone had to wait, of course. 

If he’d still been going in for regular team meetings, Crowley was certain he could have shown those other demons a thing or two about torment and misery. 

_I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but how exactly is this… software program going to help us?_

Crowley sighed. "We want to draw attention, right? And I don't want to use any more occult magic, if I can help it."

_That would be ideal, if possible._

So, if I were to hack into the computer system, we could temporarily knock out power to most of London and southern England. I have it on good authority that both Heaven and Hell have been siphoning power from Earth for years. Trust me, power goes out on that scale and they won't be able to ignore it."

They turned down a long winding driveway and came to a rough stop in front a small, unassuming rectangular tower. The tower stood next to a massive electric power pylon that stretched high into the sky. 

"And, since I was the one who installed the software, I’ve got the necessary security clearance to get us inside." Crowley stepped out of the Bentley and sauntered over to the door on the side of the building. It had no handle and could only be opened using a keypad on mounted on the wall next to it. With a steady hand, he confidently entered the access code into the keypad. There was a beep and a light flashed green, and the heavy door slid open to allow him access. The demon stepped inside and shut the door behind him, turning to climb the white iron staircase inside until they reached what appeared to be control room. There were various screens and panels showing the input and output of various energy sources, as well as a map of every power generator within miles.

Crowley grinned. “Welcome to the national power grid.”

***

The evening sun shone through the western-facing window as Crowley studied the complicated mess of control panels. If he could get this right, he could knock out all of London’s electricity without using any dark magic, which was a bonus, because it meant he could keep Aziraphale safe from harm, at least for the time being. There was just the pesky question of what they were going to do when someone finally showed up.

“You can’t trust anybody down there,” Crowley said reluctantly. “As much as I’d like to think they’ll just send me on my merry way, demonic powers intact, I have my doubts that’s what will happen.”

_I have been thinking about that as well, dear, but remember. They are under the impression that we can’t be killed, neither by hellfire nor holy water. I may not have all my strength at the moment, but I am still a principality. If they threaten you, I will threaten them. I will call on my flaming sword if needed._

“You can still do that?” Crowley asked in astonishment.

_In my current predicament, no. You’d need to allow me to do so._

Crowley felt humbled that Aziraphale was willing to go battle for him, and he had never been happier to have a principality in his corner than in that very moment.

“Deal,” Crowley replied, as he typed a code into the touch screen on the side of one of the panels. “I’m just glad that I’ve got you on my side.”

_Always, my dear._

“This is it,” Crowley said. “Ready?”

_Yes, Crowley._

Crowley bypassed several safe-guards that were meant to keep an errant employee from accidentally shutting down power to the grid, and with a final click, shut down power from two different generators. The overhead lights flickered then died, plunging the room, and the city, into complete blackout. A single emergency light powered up and drenched the small room in a dim blue light. Only one computer screen remained active, indicating a multitude of power failures across the city. Trains ground to a halt; went dark, and intersections locked up without functioning traffic lights. He'd done it.

_Now we wait?_

“Yup,” said Crowley.

Almost immediately there was an odd crackling noise, almost like static. Crowley glanced behind him. It was coming from the computer system. Spidery tendrils of occult power were rippling across the control panel and causing the monitor to flicker menacingly. 

“Angel!” he cried out in warning, but it was already too late. With deafening crack, an errant bolt of electrical energy leaped from the control panel and slammed right into him, knocking him across the room. Crowley dropped to the floor like dead weight.

_Crowley? Crowley!_ Aziraphale shouted at him. There was no reply from the demon. 

Aziraphale tried not to panic. He needed to stay calm for both their sakes. _Crowley… can you hear me? I don’t think this is the best time for a nap, dear..._

Suddenly there was a plume of smoke and the smell of sulfur permeated the air. From where his body was lying on the floor, the angel couldn’t see anything, but he could hear footsteps as someone, or something, made its way towards them.

_Crowley, wake up!_ Aziraphale begged, to no avail. The angel watched helplessly as two black clawed feet came into view. The demon in front of him paused and let out a throaty laugh that sounded like a wounded animal. Then there were hands pulling at him, grabbing him roughly and lifting him from the floor.

With Crowley unconscious, Aziraphale couldn’t move and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t summon his flaming sword. All he could do was watch as Hell came to collect their prize.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I did warn that this was going to get worse before it got better. This chapter does get dark. There is an attempted rape, so please just be aware of this before reading. Thanks.

Crowley awoke with a pounding headache. The pressure inside his skull was so excruciating that it felt as though his head was being squeezed in a vice, and every nerve ending in his body was throbbing as though he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He blinked, knowing he would likely regret opening his eyes. He wasn’t wrong.

He was chained by his wrists and ankles to the wall in a dark, filthy room, which was empty save for an old, rickety table to his right. The ground was crawling with rats, water was seeping through a crack in the ceiling and falling to the floor with a persistent, agonizing drip, and the odd scream could be heard off in the distance. Crowley knew exactly where he was. It was a place where lost souls were left to be forgotten about. The only question was how long he would have to wait until someone came along. It could be days or weeks, or even years. That was Hell for you.

He tested the strength of the chains holding his arms above his head. The iron links were cold to the touch, but nevertheless they singed hotly against his skin. These were no ordinary restraints. They’d been cursed, or more accurately, blessed, to ward against demonic magic, essentially binding him in place and rendering him powerless. He was trapped. 

“ _Crowley?_ ” Aziraphale’s voice rang out from inside his head and with a sinking feeling, Crowley remembered that he was still inside Aziraphale’s corporation.

“Aziraphale? You’re alright?”

_“Yes, I’m fine. Thank heaven you’re awake. We seem to be in a slight predicament.”_

“I can see that, angel.”

_“If you could just banish these chains and set me free, I can get us out of here.”_

Crowley slumped against the wall. “I… can’t. I’ve been bound.” 

_“Bound? How?”_

“Someone upstairs must be in on this. Not even a surprise really. It’s not like Heaven and Hell haven’t worked together before.”

_“You're right, Crowley, but I’m afraid this leaves us with very few options."_

There was a clambering of metal and the heavy door to the room flew open. Hastur, Duke of Hell, slunk into the room followed hastily by several more nasty-looking demons. 

_“Oh, dear,”_ Aziraphale said, which was a great deal more polite than what Crowley was thinking. 

Crowley let out a long sigh. At least if he had to be tortured by somebody, it was the devil he knew. "I'll try to get us out of this, Aziraphale. Just hang on." 

There was a look of sick satisfaction on Hastur’s grubby face as he approached Crowley to take a better look at him.

“Hastur, how are things? Love what you’ve done with the place. It's very… rustic.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hastur whistled. “You actually did it. Possessed an angel and brought him right to our doorstep. Good kitty.” 

Crowley gritted his teeth, choosing to ignore the remark. “Yeah. Look, I know you want to see me just as much as I want to see you, so if you could just hand over whatever forms need to be signed, I’ll be on my way.”

“Doesn’t look to me like you’re in any position to make demands right now, Crowley.” Hastur nodded at the chains binding Crowley to the wall. “In fact, this looks like the perfect opportunity to exact a little… justice.”

The other demons congregating behind him began to snicker and whisper to each other as Hastur drew a menacing looking dagger from his pocket. The duke brought the knife up to his lips, and his wet, amphibian tongue rolled out to lick the tip of the blade. 

Crowley set his jaw and tried not show any fear on his face. He had an idea, although it wasn’t a very pleasant one. “Go, ahead then," he taunted. "Discorporate me. I sure as Satan deserve it after what I did to Ligur.”

Hastur seethed with anger. “Don’t you dare speak his name.”

“Miss him, do you? Bet your work is just piling up now that he’s gone.”

“Shut up!” The duke lurched forward and pressed the knife threateningly against Crowley’s throat. “You think I’m that stupid to discorporate you both now and send the angel back upstairs?”

Crowley shrugged.

“Not gonna happen, I’m afraid. That would be too easy for you. Don’t worry, though. There are plenty of other ways to make you suffer.” Hastur tilted his head to one side, raking his inky black eyes across the length of Aziraphale’s body. There was a gleam in the demon’s eye that Crowley did not care for at all.

“You look so pretty this way, Crowley,” Hastur mused, twisting the knife in his hand as spoke. “An innocent little angel all strung up against a wall. Helpless to do anything about it if a big bad demon were to… take advantage?” 

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Crowley hissed. The thought of Hastur putting his filthy hands on Aziraphale’s body made him thoroughly sick and he would never forgive himself for allowing it to happen.

Hastur laughed and leaned closer, his hot breath on Crowley’s cheek. “That’s right, pretty angel, I know you’re still in there,” he whispered into Crowley’s ear, speaking directly to Aziraphale. “Try to fight me off… if you can.” 

Crowley spit in Hastur’s face. The small audience of demons in the room cackled with glee, evidently amused with the proceedings. With a smug grin, Hastur wiped his face off with his dirty sleeve before backhanding Crowley hard across the cheek. Aziraphale cried out as searing hot pain rippled through them both, and Crowley realized with dread that whatever Hastur did to him, Aziraphale would feel it too. Hastur shoved one knee roughly between Crowley's thighs to wrench them apart. Crowley fought in desperation against his restraints but the cold tip of the dagger began to sink in and his back was flat against the wall. He could go no further.

“You’ve got to learn to share, Crowley,” Hastur growled, reaching to unclasp his trousers. “You’re not the only demon who wants to know what it’s like to be inside an angel.” 

“Stop!” Lord Beelzebub’s commanding voice rang out as they shoved their way towards Crowley through the audience of leering demons. “Get away from him.”

Hastur let out a disgruntled hiss of disappointment but did as he was told. Crowley had never been so relieved to see Beelzebub in their long and sordid history, but he knew better than to get too excited. 

Beelzebub gave Crowley a once-over before pacing slowly back and forth, flies buzzing leisurely about their head as they traveled across the floor. “Well, Crowley. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Which isn’t saying much, because I expected you to fail.”

“I’ve done what you wanted,” Crowley offered, all of his usual swagger completely gone. “Proven myself worthy of being a demon. Now let me go.”

Hastur snorted. “He’s the most worthless excuse for a demon there is!”

“Silence!” Beelzebub snapped. “Do you have any idea how much power a principality has, Duke Hastur?" They clutched Crowley roughly by the chin and stared deep into his eyes, as though trying to see right through him. "Once the angel has fallen, all of that ethereal power will be at our fingertips to wield as a weapon for our cause.” 

Crowley twisted out of Beelzebub's grip. “Aziraphale is stronger than you give him credit for. Stronger than me. I couldn’t make him fall even if I wanted to.”

“We shall see about that,” Lord Beelzebub said with a smirk. “Everyone out. Now!”

There were a few groans of disappointment as the onlookers began to file out from the room. Hastur spit on the ground in front of Crowley’s feet before making his exit. The room was silent, save for that infernal drip of water from somewhere above their heads and the buzzing of an old florescent light on the ceiling. Vaguely, Crowley realized that the electricity must have been turned back on.

“So, the apocalypse went the way of the dodo and now you’re taking orders from Heaven?” Crowley taunted, stalling for time.

“What?” Beelzebub growled.

Crowley rattled the chains around his wrists with a contemptuous look. “Come on. Someone from up top must be helping you. Who is it? Michael? Gabriel?”

Beezelbub rolled their eyes. “From time to time our interests do align. In this case, when it comes to punishing you two for stopping the war, Gabriel and I do see eye to eye.”

Crowley could feel Aziraphale tense up at the sound of the archangels’ name. 

“And,” Beelzebub continued, “since you’re both apparently immune to holy water and hellfire, respectively, I thought up another way to bring you both down. I had hoped that Aziraphale would be one you would go for, although I’m surprised that he let you go through with it, knowing all along what the result would be? How noble of him to sacrifice himself to save you!”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. Aziraphale had offered, no he had _insisted_ on helping Crowley, believing he was saving Crowley’s life, and all Crowley had done was bring Aziraphale to them on a silver platter. Maybe he was a half-decent demon after all because clearly he was a horrible friend. Crowley wouldn’t blame Aziraphale if the angel hated him after everything he'd done.

“Now, I am a busy demon and I am quickly running out of patience.” Beelzebub fixed him with a icy glare. “Finish what you started, Crowley. Find whatever is left of that principality’s light and snuff it out.”

“Won’t happen,” Crowley said bitterly.

“Oh, but it will. For all your faults, Crowley, you are still a demon. It’s in your nature.”

“That isn’t who I am.” 

Beelzebub laughed. “Perhaps you are forgetting where we are right now?” 

With a wave of their hand, a wooden box, well worn with age, appeared on the table before them. Beelzebub carefully removed the lid and retrieved a small object from inside. Crowley caught a glimpse of something black and shiny glinting in the dim light.

“You’ve been up top for so long that you may _think_ you have free will,” Beelzebub said in a mocking tone. “But as long as you’re a demon in Hell you will have no choice but to follow my orders.” 

They revealed the object in their hand. It was a smooth, circular stone carved from onyx. 

_“Crowley, what is that?”_ Aziraphale asked apprehensively. Crowley didn’t reply. He seen that box before and knew what that stone was used for. This wasn't good. 

With a sneer of contempt, Beelzebub snapped their fingers and a fiery sigil imprinted itself on the hard surface of the stone. Crowley recognized it as his own name. His true name. His demonic aspect vibrated hungrily in the sigil’s presence. For however long as that stone bared the mark of his sigil, it would be impossible for him not to comply and he would be a slave to Hell’s demands. 

Beelzebub set the stone talisman on the table, watching eagerly as the sigil of Crowley’s name began glowing hotly. “Now. Let’s try again, shall we?”

“No,” Crowley hissed. “Wait!”

“Demon Crowley. I command you to make the principality Aziraphale fall.”

Instantly, it was like Crowley's soul was on fire, burning him up from the inside out. He hissed in agony and thrashed restlessly inside skin that was never his to begin with.

His demonic aspect was breaking free and it was threatening to rip Aziraphale apart. 

“Aziraphale, I can’t…” Crowley could barely get the words out as shiny black and red scales flickered over his skin, rippling down his neck and his temples. His eyes, or rather Aziraphale’s eyes, morphed from their thoughtful shade of blue into narrow yellow slits, his teeth lengthened into fangs and his tongue split into a fork. 

Realizing what was happening, Aziraphale braced himself against the onslaught, tossing every bit of ethereal power he had left to hold Crowley back as the demon cornered him. 

It was as though the angel’s light was beckoning Crowley closer, reeling him in like a carrot on a string. The serpent inside him had caught the scent of angel and now it was hyper-focused on its prey.

Aziraphale struggled valiantly to hold his ground but his strength was dwindling rapidly under the insistent press of demonic energy. 

Crowley tried with everything he had to reign the serpent back, but it refused to listen. He couldn’t control it. For however limited their options might have been before, it was becoming blatantly clear that there was only one option left that he could offer to Aziraphale.

“Angel…” Crowley whispered, his voice cracking as he fought back tears. “You need to smite me.”

Aziraphale balked. _“I will do no such thing, Crowley!”_

Crowley let out a hiss of frustration. “You have to. I can’t stop myself. I won't let you fall because of me.”

The angel shuddered underneath the insistent crush of demonic power which was now seeping through the cracks of his defenses. Crowley knew Aziraphale would fight to the bitter end to save them both, but darkness and light are two forces that cannot exist simultaneously. One of them was going to have to make the choice.

 _“It’s alright, angel,”_ Crowley urged him as softly as possible, giving Aziraphale whatever permission he thought he might need.

Aziraphale’s aura flickered, like a flame straining to stay alight during a windstorm, then without warning, the angel backed down. The mysterious veil, the very last boundary that had been keeping himself and Crowley separated until now, vanished. Crowley realized with horror that Aziraphale had left himself completely open and vulnerable, and now the serpent was moving in to strike.

Crowley tried to scream but he couldn't catch his breath. All he could focus on was the tidal wave of Aziraphale’s emotions, memories, and thoughts which hit him all at once. The angel was thinking of nothing but _him._

Crowley witnessed each and every time Aziraphale had been tempted by him; every time the angel's pulse had quickened while watching Crowley walk toward him in his typical skintight leather trousers; every time Crowley had grinned at him and it set his heart racing... and how aroused Aziraphale had been when he’d been slammed up against a wall by an irate demon. He could not only see how much Aziraphale wanted him, but now he knew of all the ways the angel yearned to make love to him, taking his time and drawing it out until Crowley was shaking in pleasure beneath him and begging for more. 

For however much the angel sought after old trinkets and books and delicacies at the finest restaurants, the truth was that _Crowley_ was Aziraphale’s most coveted possession and the power of this knowledge knocked the air right out of Crowley’s lungs. He was drowning in the irrefutable desire that Aziraphale had for him, unable to break through the surface. But serpents are curious creatures, and Crowley could sense something else that lay just beyond his reach. There were more to Aziraphale’s feelings than just lust and desire. Crowley needed to know the truth even if it destroyed him. 

“Show me,” he whispered desperately, and Aziraphale did not deny him any longer. 

For the briefest sliver of a moment, Crowley was adrift on a sea of rose-gold euphoria, tethered to reality only by the revelation that the angel was unquestionably in love with him. That moment was over far too soon and Crowley was overcome by a surge of white, blinding light. It shattered every sense in his body and he could no longer see, hear, or feel. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was even tied to an earthly body at that point. Then everything went dark.

***

“Crowley?”

Crowley opened his eyes to see a furry rat filling his field of vision. It sniffed him curiously, then finding nothing of interest, wandered away. He looked up to see Aziraphale staring down at him with a concerned expression. “Are you alright, dear?” 

Crowley groaned from where he lay face down on the floor. He saw Beelzebub glaring at him from a few feet away. “Still in Hell, then?” he asked, his mind swimming. He was back inside his own corporation and the headache he'd been suffering from earlier had increased ten-fold. At least he wasn’t dead.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the chains holding his wrists and ankles released and clattered to the ground. The angel stepped forward to dust himself off, the black clothing that Crowley had conjured up miracled away in exchange for the angel's familiar cream-coloured coat, worn-in waistcoat and tartan bow tie. He rubbed gingerly at his wrists and ankles where the chains had dug in so tightly, then he rolled his shoulders and two massive white wings burst forth from the ethereal plane, their tips nearly touching each side of the room. “Ah, that’s much better,” he sighed. 

“You… you haven’t fallen?” The Beelzebub spat out incredulously. “How…?”

With a flick of his wrist, Aziraphale summoned his flaming sword. The angel widened his stance, planting his left foot behind his right, and rose the sword with determined intent. “As you mentioned earlier," he said calmly, "I am a principality. Underestimate me again at your own peril.” 

Seeing one final opportunity to be had, Beelzebub snarled and reached for the talisman on the table which still bore Crowley’s name. With a terrifying battle cry, Aziraphale struck, his full weight behind him as his sword came down. Beelzebub ducked, their hand flying up in a futile attempt to brace against the impact as Aziraphale’s sword hit its mark with loud crack. Bits of cracked onyx splintered and flew across the room as the talisman shattered to pieces. 

Beelzebub peeked out at Aziraphale from behind their outstretched fingers, evidently shocked to have been spared. Crowley, who had been watching this all transpire with his mouth hanging open, struggled to his feet. 

“Now, listen clearly, as I will not say it again,” Aziraphale commanded in tone of voice that made Crowley even more weak in the knees than he already was. “There will be no further attempts to make me fall, and no more threats to Crowley’s life. Do you understand?”

The Prince of Hell nodded in stunned silence. 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was still frozen in stunned shock. “Good. Now, if there are no further objections, I’m taking _my_ demon, and I’m going home. Let’s go, dear."

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the hand and led him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be happy smut in the next chapter, so I've changed the rating of this fic to Explicit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahoo, here is the final chapter!

“You’re in love with me?”

Crowley spit the words out incredulously as soon as they had reached the entrances to their respective head offices and were back on neutral ground.

Aziraphale fidgeted uncomfortably “Yes, I am,” he finally admitted. 

Crowley’s entire body trembled from head to toe. “How long…?” he asked.

“Oh, well, it’s been a while now...”

“Angel.” Crowley's long fingers curled around Aziraphale’s wrist, urging him to gaze into the depths of his exposed amber eyes. "Be honest with me."

Aziraphale swallowed, and a deep blush flourished across his face. He locked eyes with the demon. “Since at least the Blitz. And even before that, there were definitely… _feelings_ … unbefitting to an angel, or so I thought at the time.”

Crowley let out a frustrated groan. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You know why, Crowley!” Aziraphale turned away to avoid the intense scrutiny of Crowley’s eyes. “Perhaps I was being selfish, but I couldn’t fathom a reality where telling you the truth would have made it any easier… for either of us. I wanted to protect you. And today, I nearly failed.”

“No, angel. You did nothing wrong. I’m the idiot who nearly got us both killed. I never should never have tried to possess you.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitched and he shut his eyes for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to keep himself from coming completely undone. “Crowley, you knew I would have helped you, regardless of the risk.” 

Crowley sighed. “Of course, I knew! That’s exactly why I should have just kept my big mouth shut and left you out of it. But, I didn’t because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing-” he motioned wildly between them, “-whatever THIS is.”

Tears were flowing freely now down Aziraphale’s face and he fell silent. The events which had occurred in just the last hour had been enough to break down just about anyone, let alone the pain and guilt that Aziraphale had been dealing with since being betrayed by those that he thought of as family. Crowley understood this because he felt that pain too, and it cut him just as deeply. And, Crowley, who had rarely seen Aziraphale cry in all six thousand years that they’d known each other couldn’t stand to see his angel so upset. He reached across and gently wiped the tears away from Aziraphale’s cheek. 

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open. The expression he fixed Crowley with was one of utter resignation, as though he had considered the outcome of what he was about to say next and had made his peace with it.

“Crowley,” he whispered. “I love you, and I am relieved that you finally know the truth, but I completely understand if it’s too little too late. I wouldn’t expect you to-”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the lapels and kissed him hard on the lips. It was impulsive, but after having wasted so much time _not_ kissing Aziraphale for the last six thousand years, he found it quite impossible to go one another minute without doing so. The angel’s hands fluttered forwards and he made a small squeak of surprise at the crush of Crowley’s mouth against his own, yet it didn’t take long before he relaxed entirely and melted into the kiss.

As they kissed, Crowley mumbled something unintelligible against Aziraphale’s lips and the angel tilted his head back so that he could speak.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t quite catch that?” he remarked.

“I said, I love you Aziraphale,” Crowley repeated. “You stubborn, beautiful, silly angel. I’ve been in love with you since the beginning and I’ve never stopped. I thought that was obvious.”

“Even after all the times I turned you away-”

“Aziraphale, I love you more than anything in this world. That will never change.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s smile lit up his entire face. “Well, in that case, please continue.”

Crowley didn’t need to be asked twice. He bent to kiss the angel again, this time teasing Aziraphale’s lips apart and slipping his tongue inside.

Aziraphale returned the kiss with urgency, hands roaming freely down Crowley’s back and caressing the demon’s hips and hooking curious fingers through Crowley’s belt loops. He tugged hard enough that the two of them were pressed firmly against each other. It was impossible for Crowley to hide his growing erection, which was pushing insistently against the angel's soft thigh, but if Aziraphale noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

“Angel, let’s go home,” Crowley urged, using nothing but sheer willpower to pull himself back. As much as it pained him to stop kissing Aziraphale, he also didn’t want to spend another minute in the lobby of this godforsaken building. It didn’t feel safe and there were much better places they could be if they were going to continue snogging.

“Home…” Aziraphale echoed with uncertainty.

Crowley realized what he’d just said. Of course, Aziraphale’s home was his bookshop, and even though there bad been many an afternoon spent lounging on Aziraphale’s settee, Crowley didn’t live there.

“I meant,” he amended, his mouth feeling rather dry, “let me take you home.”

Aziraphale did not seem satisfied with this suggestion. “Crowley, I know it’s a bit farther, but would you mind terribly if I spent the night with you at your flat?”

Crowley mouth fell open. His place? “Uh, er, you…. really?” he stammered.

Aziraphale motioned for Crowley to be keep his voice down. “I have a feeling I might be paid a visit by a certain archangel this evening and I don’t think I’ve calmed down enough to handle such a conversation,” he whispered.

Crowley nodded, perhaps too enthusiastically. “You know you’re always welcome at mine, angel,” he said, not entirely unconvinced that _if_ Gabriel were to show up at the bookshop tonight, there was a fair chance that Aziraphale might kill him.

“I do hope you aren’t sick of me yet,” Aziraphale remarked as they made their way towards the exit. After all, you’ve just been stuck with me for the last eight hours, and in the same body, no less.”

Crowley threaded his fingers through Aziraphale’s. “There’s not a chance in hell, angel.”

***

The taxi ride to Crowley’s flat in Mayfair didn’t take long, yet Aziraphale ended up falling asleep with his head on Crowley’s shoulder, and suffice it to say, Crowley wouldn’t have minded if the journey took all night.

“Make yourself at home,” Crowley offered as he and Aziraphale stepped through the front door. He waved a hand vaguely around the room, even though there was very little in the way of making oneself at home in his flat. “You need anything? I could make you some tea? I think I have some snacks in the pantry, can’t remember really. If there’s something you want, I can conjure it up. Anything you want, just let me… ” Crowley trailed off, realizing that he was babbling.

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” replied Aziraphale.

Crowley’s flat wasn’t exactly what most people would consider ‘welcoming.’ It was dimly lit, rather clinical and sparsely decorated. None of this normally would normally matter, as the only guests Crowley ever seemed to get these days were those of the demonic variety. Now, he had a visitor he wanted to impress.

The lounge, which was more of an office, consisted of a heavy wooden desk, a medieval throne, and a leather sofa. The sofa had only been miracled into existence after the failed apocalypse for Aziraphale to use, after he’d insisted on staying awake. After keeping him company for the first couple of hours, Crowley had eventually retired his bedroom, only to lie awake until the next morning. Between being rejected twice by Aziraphale and then nearly losing the angel forever in a fire, he’d been far too on edge to sleep. That day also happened to be the last time Aziraphale had slept over. Until now.

Crowley had felt so at ease earlier with Aziraphale’s head resting on his shoulder in the back of that taxi, as though all was right with the world. But now that they’d arrived at his flat, he was so anxious he didn’t know what to do with himself. He supposed it was because he didn’t want to make any assumptions about why Aziraphale was staying over or move too fast and screw things up. He needed Aziraphale to be the one to set the pace, otherwise he was at risk of crossing another line that he wasn’t supposed to cross. And after what had happened tonight, he was frankly terrified. Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets to try keep the angel from seeing how nervous he was.

Aziraphale, who had paced a tight circle around the room before returning to stand beside Crowley, noticed the demon’s apprehension. “I’m fine dear, really.”

Crowley nodded. He stood as still as a pillar. Aziraphale decided to take a seat on the sofa, and as if on cue, Crowley slunk into a restless pile of limps to his left. This, at least, felt comfortable. This is what they did.

The angel’s expressive blue eyes locked onto his own. “Are you alright, dear?” he asked, after the silence had gone on too long.

Crowley wanted to laugh. Such a loaded question, that was. Leave it to Aziraphale to be the only person who had ever, in Crowley’s entire existence, bothered to ask him if he was alright.

They had nearly been raped, Aziraphale had nearly fallen, and Crowley had nearly lost his mind. Oh, and they'd finally expressed their feelings for each other out loud for the very first time. No reason why Crowley wouldn't be 'alright.'

“I’m fine,” he said. “Are you alright, angel?"

Aziraphale gave him a wry smile. “To be honest, I’m not sure. You know, Crowley, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to save either of us tonight.”

Crowley pursed his lips. He didn’t want to talk about this. “We’re both here, aren’t we?”

“When Beelzebub was controlling you with that stone, I realized that the only way I might be able to break its hold was to reveal myself to you, fully and absolutely. I wasn’t sure if it would harm you… or worse.”

Crowley balked. “You were worried about hurting me, when I was the one causing you pain whenever I used magic? Not to mention each time I did, I felt a little bit of a rush."

Aziraphale looked up, appraising him with those insufferable blue eyes.

"I didn’t tell you that,” Crowley admitted. "Wasn't sure what you'd think of me if you knew."

“It all goes back to the innate order of things,” he said evenly. “You are a demon and I am an angel. It is in my basic nature to thwart you.”

“Not this again.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale clenched his jaw. “Do you really believe I would allow for any other demon to possess me?’

Crowley’s sharp nails sank into the leather cushions at the thought of any other demon so much as trying.

“Let’s just say they wouldn’t get very far,” Aziraphale assured him. “The only reason you were able to remain in possession of me for so long was because I allowed it.”

“I thought you said an angel possessed by a demon would be rendered powerless?”

“Perhaps that is true, but I am a principality.” Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hand and squeezed it protectively within his own. "When it came down to it, and I realized that it was the only choice left… I had to hope that my love for you was enough to keep you safe.”

Crowley suddenly felt very cold. He didn't want to think about worst case scenarios. He feigned a smile that he knew Aziraphale would not buy. “I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t smite me after all.”

“I’m so very glad I didn’t,” Aziraphale said, squeezing Crowley’s hand so hard now it nearly hurt. “I’m quite sure if I had, there wouldn’t be a single demon left in Hell right now. And, that’s not to mention what I would have done to Gabriel…”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley's voice was low and sultry.

“Yes?”

“You're going to discorporate me if you keep talking like that.”

Aziraphale shot him a disapproving look. “I shouldn’t even be saying such things.”

Crowley shrugged. "I can't help it if it gets me all hot and bothered." 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded, his face turning red.

He'd meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, only it was dangerously close to the truth. He moved closer so that he could curl himself around Aziraphale, soaking up his body heat and wrapping the angel in a tight embrace. Aziraphale welcomed the shivering demon into his arms and nuzzling against his neck. Crowley allowed his lips to ghost along the hollow of the angel’s throat.

“You were brilliant back there, Aziraphale.” 

“Oh, really? Thank you," he blushed.

“Something about you standing there in all your glory, flaming sword in hand, the Prince of Hell trembling on their knees before you – uh, yeah, you could say that was pretty fucking sexy.”

Aziraphale looked rather pleased with himself now. He fiddled with his bow tie. “Well, I had rather hoped to appear intimidating. I was not trying to win any hearts."

Crowley grinned, all teeth. “Oh, you were intimidating, trust me. But I don’t know, when you went all… _principality_ …” he kissed Aziraphale’s earlobe, his tongue darting out to taste him.

Aziraphale trembled. “You... enjoyed seeing me like that?”

“Oh, yesss,” Crowley hissed, beginning to lose himself a bit.

Aziraphale consider this for a moment, then he reached over and let his hand fall casually on Crowley’s thigh. “You know, Crowley, come to think of it, there is one thing that I would like.”

“Name it.”

“I would like to go to bed.”

Crowley straightened. “Right. Of course. You must be exhausted.”

“With you.”

“Ngk,” said Crowley. And that was all he could manage.

Aziraphale smiled and waited patiently for the demon to elaborate and when he didn’t, he added sweetly, “that is, if you would be amenable?” 

The warmth of Aziraphale’s hopeful smile thawed the ice that clung to every one of Crowley’s frozen nerve endings. He blinked, and released the breath he’d been holding in.

“Yes, angel, for someone’s sake, yes. I’m amenable.”

Aziraphale looked ecstatic. Before Crowley could process what was happening, the angel’s lips were pressed fast against his own and he was grasping and tugging at Crowley’s clothing. It seemed that Aziraphale was finished with pretending that he didn't want this just as badly as Crowley did. There was no sense in hiding it anymore, especially since Crowley had already seen everything for himself. 

Knowing the extent for which Aziraphale yearned for him and for how long had been overwhelming at first, but it also made Crowley rather fearless. He kissed Aziraphale back passionately, capturing the end of the angel’s tartan bow tie between his fingers and pulling it free. Next, he tore hungrily at the buttons on Aziraphale's waistcoat until they yielded for him, and went to work on the angel’s light blue shirt underneath, pushing them both off the angel’s shoulders.

Aziraphale was beautiful. His body was soft and strong, supple yet sturdy, with a dusting of blonde hair along his chest and lower on his belly. Crowley realized just how long it had been since the last time he’d seen more of the angel than just his forearms when he would occasionally roll up his shirt sleeves. It was maddening. There was so much unmarked skin to see now, so much more to kiss, and so much more to taste. He bent to capture Aziraphale’s lips once more, then moved steadily downward, taking his time and exploring every inch of him, kissing and nibbling at the angel's jawline, his throat, his chest. The angel’s arousal was obvious now; straining hard against the material of his trousers and jutting against the inside of Crowley’s hip. Crowley decided he would need to get his lips on that next. 

With a snap of his fingers, he and Aziraphale landed softly on top of his bed. The angel let out a gasp of pleasant surprise as Crowley tore his jacket off and climbed over Aziraphale, bracketing the angel’s plush hips between his thighs. 

“Had I known how badly you wanted me, angel, I would have taken you to bed eons ago.”

As tantalizing as that sounds, my dear" Aziraphale replied, his hands roaming steadily up Crowley's thighs, "I’m not sure you could have tempted me back then.”

Crowley hissed as Aziraphale palmed his effort atop his tight jeans. He began to undulate his hips, grinding against Aziraphale's hand in slow, sultry movements. 

“Hmm. And how about now?” he mumbled, eyes closed. 

Aziraphale let out a noise that almost sounded like a low growl. "Now, I have every intention of showing you just how much I want you." 

As though without any effort, the angel rolled over, and Crowley now found himself on his back with Aziraphale on top. He tore Crowley's scarf and t-shirt aside with ease, but as he went to work on demon's trousers, Aziraphale, principality and guardian of the eastern gate, had met his match.

“Good, Lord, Crowley, why are these so tight?”

Crowley laughed. “Why do you think, angel? ‘Cause I look good in them.”

“Well, I’m not going to deny that, but it would be quite ironic if they ended up being the reason that we couldn’t- ”

Crowley hastily snapped his fingers to finish the job. Aziraphale stopped speaking mid-sentence as he regarded Crowley’s newly naked body, right down to the demon’s rigid cock, which was aching with want now and desperate to be touched.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Crowley, would you mind if I indulged in a fantasy I've had for a long time?"

Crowley had seen such a longing expression on Aziraphale’s face before, and it was typically whenever the main course arrived while they were dining at the Ritz. "I think you're mistaking this for one of _my_ fantasies,” he said, “but go on."

Aziraphale ginned and positioned himself between the demon's thighs, curling eager fingers around the base of Crowley's cock.

"Oh, God," Crowley blasphemed, intolerably aroused by the angel’s brazenness. Aziraphale didn't seem phased by Crowley's outburst as his lips were now blessedly wrapped around Crowley’s cock, relishing the way it made the demon shudder beneath him, before taking him easily down to the hilt. 

“Oh, fuck yesss,” Crowley moaned, his back arching and his fingers clenching the bed sheets. Aziraphale took his time, savoring him as though he were the rarest delicacy on the menu. Before long, Crowley felt slick fingers teasing at his entrance, and his head fell back onto the pillows as Aziraphale spread him open. He arched his back and tilted his hips, encouraging the angel’s fingers deeper, and Aziraphale rocked into him gently, opening him inch by inch. The combination of Aziraphale's warm mouth on his cock and his fingers stretching him open felt so good that Crowley thought he might fly apart, and yet he wanted so much more.

“Oh, angel…" he whimpered, half-gone with pleasure. "Please, Aziraphale...”

Aziraphale stopped what he was doing and smiled. “Please what, darling?” he asked innocently, and Crowley could swear he saw him wink, the bastard. 

He shot the angel a look of exasperation. “For the love of all that is good in this world- please, Aziraphale, I want you to _fuck_ me.”

"Oh, well you could have just said so, Crowley." Aziraphale withdrew his fingers altogether and stood at the foot of the bed. There was a snap and his trousers, along with every other article of hastily discarded clothing was now folded in a neat pile next to the bed. 

Crowley took a long look. Aziraphale’s cock was perfect and thick just like the rest of him. 

But Aziraphale wasn't finished. The angel's powerful white wings burst forth once more, feathers stretched fully in all their radiant glory to bathe his naked body in a glowing light. Crowley neatly had to bite back tears. For the second time in one night, he truly saw Aziraphale for what he was. Soft, and strong, and full of light and love. And right now, all of it was for him.

“You... you're beautiful," Crowley managed, propping himself up on his elbows.

“As are you, darling.” Aziraphale stepped closer and took Crowley by the hips. He dragged Crowley down towards the edge of the bed, spreading the demon's thighs wide before settling between them, lining himself up. 

Crowley whimpered, his heart racing at being manhandled so easily. He wasn’t sure what it meant for him, as a demon, to be so unbearably aroused at the idea of being completely at the mercy of an angel, but Crowley didn’t care. He would give himself to Aziraphale again and again, without recourse, and he wanted it more than anything.

Crowley wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist as the angel finally pushed all the way inside him.

"And I thought it was your trousers that were tight, Crowley," Aziraphale murmured.

"Shut up," Crowley hissed playfully. He rolled his hips encouraging against Aziraphale's cock. As satisfyingly full of angel as he was, he needed Aziraphale to _move_.

"Crowley, I... is it...?"

“It's perfect, angel," Crowley whispered. "You feel so good." 

Aziraphale held on tightly to Crowley's hips as he began to thrust into him. It was slow at first, almost as though he was worried that the demon might break if he didn’t hold back at least a little. Crowley needed to prove him otherwise.

"Come on, angel. Show me what you've got. I can take it,” he snapped.

Aziraphale nodded and picked up speed, fucking into him more steadily, his massive wings beating alongside his thrusts and finally creating the friction that the demon was so desperate for. Crowley cried out, trying in vain to brace himself against something but the stupid slippery sheets were making that very difficult. Aziraphale watched Crowley writhing with pleasure beneath him and it seemed to spur him on. He looped one arm beneath his hips and hoisted one of Crowley’s legs over his shoulder to give them a new angle. 

"Yes, yesss! Give me everything, angel,” Crowley snarled at him, his voice rough with desire.

"As you wish, demon," Aziraphale quipped, taking Crowley's request to heart. His fingers dug roughly into Crowley's hips as he slammed into him, brilliant white wings extending out from behind him to provide leverage as he fucked the demon hard into the mattress. 

"Ah-zir-ra-phale!" Crowley moaned loudly as the angel impaled him over and over again, taking him deeper with each stride, his thick cock dragging against him in just the right place inside. 

Aziraphale wrapped a slick hand once more around Crowley’s dripping cock, stroking him in unison with his thrusts. It wasn’t much longer until this combination proved to be more than Crowley could handle. His nails ripped through the ill-fated sheets, tearing them to shreds as a powerful orgasm tore through him, spreading sticky heat between their bodies. Aziraphale’s hips stuttered as he watched Crowley come completely undone and a moment later he followed him over, rocking into him again and again until he was fully spent.

Aziraphale folded his wings away and pulled Crowley onto his lap and into a tight embrace. The demon threw his arms around Aziraphale's neck and kissed him deeply. They remained that way for some time, nestled against each other, engaged in an unspoken conversation that was intrinsically understood. 

“I love you,” Crowley whispered against the sweat-damp skin of Aziraphale's forehead.

“And I love you, dearest” Aziraphale replied. “So very much.”

Crowley was thankful that his demonic powers had been spared, and he made good use of them to clean them both up and tuck them under fresh sheets in one go. He draped his arm around Aziraphale, who sighed happily and wiggled in against him. Today, Aziraphale had acted as his guardian angel, and Crowley wanted to do his best to do the same for Aziraphale. He would keep the angel here forever if he could, in his bed, away from the rest of the world and safe in his arms, and away from all the forces that continued to try and tear them apart.

“I think Hell will leave us alone, now," Crowley said. "For good, I mean.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they will,” said Aziraphale. “It’s more my side that I worry about."

"Heaven? They wouldn’t dare. They still think you're immune to hellfire, and they won’t be getting any more help from down below."

"I'm more worried about what they could do to you, Crowley. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that they might try to harm you to get revenge on me.”

“They've probably got better things to worry about, don't you think?" Crowley replied, shrugging it off. "Besides, they think I’m immune to holy water. What could a bunch of angels really do to me anyway? Bore me to death by reciting lines from the Sound of Music?”

Aziraphale did not seem convinced. “We need to remain vigilant. It’s probably best if we were to move in together.”

“Move in together?” Crowley repeated, equally excited and alarmed by the prospect. Where would he put his throne? Where would Aziraphale put all his books? What if they started fighting about stupid things, like Crowley’s habit of yelling at his plants or Aziraphale's penchant for leaving mugs half-full of tea in random locations?

"Mmm," Aziraphale hummed sleepily. “We can talk about this tomorrow, Crowley. I can’t remember the last time I felt _this_ tired.”

“Alright, angel.” He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. A few minutes later, Crowley was starting drift off when he suddenly let out a very loud and exasperated groan.

“Shit! Aziraphale! Where did I leave my car?”

There was no reply. The Principality Aziraphale was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think? Let me know in the comment section! ♡
> 
> I am redundant-angel on tumblr :)


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